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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661650">i'm fine even after i have died</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_soft_and_soaked_in_pain/pseuds/armstonite'>armstonite (something_soft_and_soaked_in_pain)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, no beta we die like men, this started out as pure smut and the devolved into feelings can you tell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 03:14:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,591</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25661650</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/something_soft_and_soaked_in_pain/pseuds/armstonite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>in which the doctor can’t quite keep her mind to herself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>71</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first time it happens the Doctor is babbling on about how she managed to subdue a particularly sinister extra unit above an old friend’s flat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Friend may be a bit of a strong word,” she says as she shoves a custard cream into her mouth and continues to pace. “Craig didn’t like me much at first. But he came around eventually. Had a baby called Alfie.” Yaz chuckles and catches the Doctor’s hand as she paces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come sit, Doctor.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Course, he wasn’t always called Alfie. Preferred Stormageddon, Dark Lord of All. He told me. Have I ever told you I speak baby?” The Doctor continued to ramble, pacing the length of Yaz’s room aboard the TARDIS. It was time for their weekly movie night, or however often you could keep weekly traditions while hurtling through time and space. The Doctor always had a hard time winding down after adventures and tonight was no exception. The day had brought Henry the VIII, a batch of angry gnomes, and a girl displaced in time. Yaz was glad to be back aboard the TARDIS, even if the Doctor wouldn’t sit still long enough for her to start the movie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor.” Yaz interrupted. The Doctor had the decency to look embarrassed and quickly dropped to the floor by Yaz’s feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Movie started and popcorn in hand, the Doctor was quiet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For all of ten minutes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>First, she’d started going on at length about the morality of film’s anthropomorphic animals, and then again about the hierarchy of said animals. Yaz feels guilty at the flash of annoyance that burns through her chest. After she got out of prison, (800 years for the Doctor and five for Yaz) their dynamic had changed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The time apart had proven to Yaz that the Doctor wasn’t just a schoolyard crush. She wanted the Doctor to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She wanted to be selfish with her time, to run toward the Doctor, hold all the moments with her close, and savor them. The Doctor had changed too. She moves like she’s afraid of Yaz disappearing at any moment. Yaz will catch her staring sometimes, looking past her like she’s already gone or through her like she’d witnessed some great private tragedy. The movie nights were a rare moment of quiet in their exciting lives, a way to get the Doctor to stop running and be still with her. So if Yaz tugs on the Doctor’s hair a little harder than normal she tells herself she didn’t mean it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Stop talking.” Yaz tells her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It isn’t a command, per se, but she can tell the Doctor takes it like one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Yaz feels something like a spark of electricity course through her fingertips and she is treated with something akin to a daydream. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor was turned toward her, rubbing her face against Yaz’s thigh like a cat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The daydream version of her tightens her grip, pulling at the roots. The Doctor moans softly, pressing her face more intently into Yaz’s leg. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The daydream crackles and pops and Yaz is back in her room on the TARDIS, hand still in the Doctor’s hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz didn’t dare speak to break the heavy silence they were plunged in, but she can hear the breathy noises that are falling from the Doctor’s lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re quiet for the rest of the movie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After that night, the Doctor is more receptive to Yaz. She starts seeking her out in between adventures, opening up more, just as long as Yaz is petting her hair. And if Yaz sometimes tugs at it a little too hard just to hear her gasp, well no one could prove it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A long night of tossing and turning brings Yaz to the library. She hopes a long book and the chaotic sounds of the Doctor fiddling with the TARDIS will quiet her mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s nearly finished with the first chapter when the Doctor comes noisily traipsing into the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz says nothing but threads her fingers in the Doctor’s hair as she sits in front of Yaz’s chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor hums contentedly as Yaz continues to read, delicate fingers starting to massage her scalp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t sleep?” The Doctor asks, breaking the comfortable silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mhm. Don’t know what’s up with me today. I’m usually out like a light.” Yaz says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Reckon it’s the lack of windows. Humans are funny like that. Can’t make heads or tails of yourselves unless you’ve got the sun.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz tugs at her hair at that and the Doctor laughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor?” Yaz asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?” The Doctor looks practically blissful with Yaz’s fingers massaging at her scalp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why d’you always sit on the floor?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, Yaz already knows the answer. She’s just wondering if the Doctor is bold enough to say it. They haven’t talked about it, how whenever Yaz was sitting the Doctor would find a way to sit at her feet. Haven’t talked about that moment in her bedroom since it happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz can see the tips of the Doctor’s ears turn pink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love a good floor, me. Much more comfortable than a chair. Not to mention a great conversationalist!” The Doctor babbled, ears turning pinker still.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sentient earth aside, she gets another flash like the one in her bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time, the Doctor is on the floor and Yaz is standing. Yaz yanks the Doctor up by her hair and brings her mouth to her ear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lying, Doctor.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A high keening noise comes from the Doctor’s throat and Yaz would be lying if she said it didn’t do something for her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor goes very still at the vision’s end and Yaz exhales a breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz tugs harder on the Doctor’s hair, bringing her head back. The Doctor </span>
  <em>
    <span>whines</span>
  </em>
  <span>, at the pain and Yaz, lets her lips ghost the shell of the Doctor’s ear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This what you were wanting, Doctor?” Before anything can happen, the TARDIS’ klaxon sirens start blaring and they’re forced apart.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right then. We should go.” The Doctor said, straightening and running out of the library. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz sighs and runs out after her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz and the Doctor are running down a corridor, monster not far behind them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor makes a hard left and pulls Yaz into the space equivalent of a broom closet while they listen to the monster come thundering down the hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t move.” Yaz breathes and she may as well be breathing the words directly into the Doctor’s mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor freezes and Yaz can feel every point of contact where the Doctor is pressed against her. She has the Doctor pressed into the wall, her leg shoved between the Doctor’s own. Yaz shifts and swears she can feel the woman’s hips rock down into her thigh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor suppresses a mewl and Yaz feels snatches of a vision lick at the corners of her mind. It fizzes and pops and doesn’t come as smoothly as the others. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Like something is trying to hold it back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The vision floods her mind fully and she sees herself pinning the Doctor to her bed in the TARDIS. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t move.” she sees herself growl into the Doctor’s mouth, pinning the Doctor’s hips to the bed with her own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The vision ends suddenly and Yaz can see the Doctor’s eyes are blown wide in the darkness of the closet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yaz, I-” The Doctor starts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh. Doctor.” Yaz whispers back, covering the Doctor’s mouth with her hand. She leans in close to the Doctor’s ear, boldened by what she saw. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That were you trying to hold back, wasn’t it? There something you don’t want me to see?” Yaz runs the flat of her teeth across the Doctor’s ear as she says it. The Doctor pants into Yaz’s hand, hips rolling against her thigh. The Doctor screws her eyes shut and Yaz is treated to another flash. Her hand is wrapped around the Doctor’s throat, her hand moving steadily underneath the other woman’s trousers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s surprised how domineering she looks in the Doctor’s fantasy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Was this how the Doctor always saw her? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The vision ends and the Doctor is looking at her with wide, shameful eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Still trying to hold back?” Yaz licks a line up the side of the Doctor’s neck. “You’re like a teenage boy who comes his pants at the slightest touch.” Yaz swallows the Doctor’s moan with a kiss, pressing hard for the sound not to be heard by whatever lurks in the hallway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She listens intently for a moment, the monster’s thundering footsteps retreating down the hall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She backs away and the Doctor all but collapses against the wall, not meeting Yaz’s eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right then, we should get a shift on.” The Doctor mumbles to the floor and pushes past Yaz out into the hallway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz watches the Doctor, all smart comments and bravado take on the person responsible for the alien running through the halls and tormenting the people of the planet they’re on. The Doctor is willing to give him a chance to run, and he almost takes it before his eyes turn to Yaz. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell your dog to heel, woman.” Sexist comment aside, she sees how the Doctor’s shoulders tighten at the comment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor doesn't respond, just does something clever with her sonic, and the ship’s controls and grabs Yaz and tells her to run. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They crash through the doors of the TARDIS as the first of the explosions start, and the Doctor runs to the console to start throwing switches. When they’re well and truly on their way, the Doctor disappears below deck and Yaz doesn't follow her. Sensing the Doctor’s need to be alone, she goes to her room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She goes looking for her the next morning, it’s high time they’ve had a talk. She’s not in any of her usual spots, tinkering with the TARDIS, in the library, or with Yaz herself. She’s about to go check the first five of the eighty-seven squash courts when she spots the Doctor sitting on her bed through the door of her room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hiya, Yaz.” The Doctor fidgets with her fingers, not meeting her gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Doctor. I’ve been looking for you. You said you wanted to talk?”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. I told the TARDIS to keep you away for a little so I could gather my thoughts.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s so important, Doctor?” Yaz asks, coming to sit beside her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanted to talk to you about what you've been seeing. In the library and the closet, I mean.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor continues to fidget in place, squirming while Yaz looks at her. Yaz reaches across the space and tips the Doctor’s chin up to look at her. She still doesn't look at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever it is, you can tell me, Doctor. I won’t bite.” Yaz’s thumb rests just below the Doctor’s bottom lip and Yaz is treated to a vision like a wave overtaking her, the Doctor taking Yaz’s thumb into her mouth. Bobbing her head down on it, she moans as it strokes her tongue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor jerks away as if she’s been burned and the vision fades. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. That. Y’know how I told you time lords are telepathic, yeah?” Yaz nods. “Sometimes, if particularly strong emotions are felt, we can project this image to someone through touch.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So all these flashes I’ve been getting? They’ve been you, fantasizing about me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t have to be limited to fantasies, but yeah generally. D’ya want to see?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Show me,” Yaz says, taking the Doctor’s hand in hers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor shows her wonderful things. There are supernovas, the birth of stars, and galaxies. There’s Yaz, Ryan, and Graham smiling and laughing in the TARDIS, mountains and skyscrapers, and like a tidal wave of emotions, there’s Yaz. Yaz smiling at the Doctor, Yaz in all the moments she didn’t notice the Doctor looking, Yaz patching through Doctor up after a bad scrape, all of her through the Doctor’s eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The images end and there’s another fantasy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor bent over the TARDIS console, hair fisted in Yaz’s hand while Yaz pounds into her from behind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz pulls her hand away from the Doctor’s, searching her face for any hint of emotion. The Doctor still refuses to meet her eyes. Continues to fidget with her hands. Yaz brings her hand back up to the Doctor’s face, strokes her thumb across the seam of her lips until they part. Yaz’s thumb slips easily inside. She can feel the Doctor’s tongue lick at it slowly and she sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can’t believe this were all you needed to be quiet,” Yaz says quietly, stroking her tongue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor nips at Yaz’s thumb at that, not hard enough to hurt but close enough. Yaz taps the side of the Doctor’s face once, a warning, and the Doctor practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>melts</span>
  </em>
  <span> into the touch. Yaz taps her cheek again, harder this time, but still not quite a slap, and the Doctor moans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to be good for me, Doctor?” Yaz strokes the side of her face again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor moans again and nods. </span>
</p><hr/>
<p>
  <span>It becomes some type of routine for them. Not talking, but sometimes the Doctor will come to Yaz and poke at her, getting her annoyed enough that Yaz will pull at her hair and the Doctor’s face will almost split in half with pleasure. Yaz can tell she’s doing it on purpose, pushing at Yaz until she gives in and touches her. Or hurts her. Whichever comes first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After another adventure, Yaz is simmering in her room alone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor having made herself scarce as soon as they got back to the TARDIS. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor has managed to skirt death yet again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another mountaintop moment, forcing self-sacrifice yet again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz thought she was better than this, that they had moved past such selfish moments. But the Doctor had left her alone yet again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz can’t help but be reminded of the last time. Eight-hundred years might’ve been a blip for a time lord, but five years of thinking her Doctor was dead was a very long time indeed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So she sits and fumes in her room, TV on to help her forget about the infuriating day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A knock sounds at her door and the Doctor slowly pushes her head in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> “Yaz?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz ignores her, eyes trained on the television. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor steps further into the room, making her way over to the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yaz? Can we talk?” She tries again. Yaz continues to ignore her. The Doctor, eyes lighting up with an idea, goes to sit between Yaz’s legs. When Yaz’s hand doesn't slide to her hair, she wiggles her head underneath her hand, trying to get Yaz to touch her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor, seemingly discouraged, huffs out a breath, before dropping her face to Yaz’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She places little kisses onto each of Yaz’s fingertips, </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>biting at them when she doesn't get the response she craves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please, Yaz?” The Doctor pleads, still biting at her fingers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor stops biting, and moves to leave the room, head hung low. She makes it as far as the door before Yaz finally speaks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor,” Yaz calls, and the Doctor’s shoulders instantly pick up. The Doctor turns on her heel to look at her and Yaz taps her thigh twice, pointing to the space at her feet. The Doctor practically trips over herself to get to Yaz, dropping to the floor her back to the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz threads her hand through blonde strands, and the Doctor sighs, closing her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at you,” Yaz breathes. “High on your mountaintop all alone, and you still come when called.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz knows it’s a low blow, especially after the events of the day. But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t savor hearing the Doctor’s breath hitch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yaz, I-” The Doctor tries to squirm away from her but Yaz’s grip is sure. She tightens her hold and the Doctor pants, her head moving with Yaz’s hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y’know Doctor, I don’t think that man were lying with what he said,” Yaz said leaning down close to the Doctor’s ear. She bites at her earlobe, her teeth sinking into the soft skin there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you want to be my puppy so I can discipline you. Would you like that, Doctor? You want to be my good girl?” Yaz punctuates what she says with bites and the Doctor barely keeps a moan from escaping her throat. The Doctor nods as much as she can with Yaz’s hand inhibiting her movement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guess what, Doctor?” Yaz practically moans into her ear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t deserve it,” Yaz says, releasing her grip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor whines in surprise and clambers in Yaz’s lap, eager to be touched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yaz, please.” She moans, desperately rutting herself into the other woman’s lap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz ignores her. The Doctor lets out a pitiful sigh and her eyes alight with an idea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She starts grinding herself down against the other woman’s leg, clenching her thighs tightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz fights her surprise as the Doctor mewls into her neck, desperately trying to get any amount of friction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were here now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor stops all of a sudden, concern written all over her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this okay?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz runs her hand up the Doctor’s back, hands finding their way into her hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y’didnt care before did you? You’re a spoiled little puppy aren’t you, Doctor?” Yaz says, pulling at the other woman’s hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor’s hips roll against her thigh, panting quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her head sinks into Yaz’s neck, moaning desperately as she moves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yaz, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She whimpers, biting where Yaz’s neck meets her shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You gonna come, Doctor? Lucky you’re wearing clothes, if you’d been naked I’d have made you lick up the mess you were making on my thigh.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A strangled moan falls from her lips and the Doctor’s hips stutter, once, twice, and she falls still. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz runs her hands over the Doctor’s back, petting her softly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, Doctor?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor seeks her out two days later. Yaz is laying in a hammock in the library, book in hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor comes and lays on top of her, head tucked into her neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right then, Yaz?” The Doctor mumbles against her neck. Yaz nods and they settle into a comfortable silence. They still haven’t talked about it. But the Doctor has been seeking her out like this, pressing her whole body against her like she hasn’t been touched in days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Side effect from prison.” The Doctor wonders aloud. At Yaz’s confusion, she smiles shyly into her shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This body is a lot more skin hungry than my other ones. Eight hundred years without a hug and they're suddenly what I’m all about.” They fall into a comfortable silence, and Yaz runs her fingers along the Doctor’s skin. The Doctor is quiet for so long Yaz is sure she’s fallen asleep. She asks anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you survive it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought a lot. Talked to myself even more. Thinking about you helped.” The Doctor says into Yaz’s neck. Her thumb traces circles into Yaz’s hip almost absentmindedly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were dead. For a long time.” Yaz doesn't know what she expects, but it certainly isn’t the Doctor sitting up to stare at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you survive it?” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>She isn’t quite sure how to answer that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t for a long time. Nearly lost a bet I made when I were sixteen. But my family helped. Ryan and Graham too. They got me out of the house, back on me feet.” For the first year she was hopeful and the second she was numb. She’d listen intently, waiting to hear those all too familiar engines. They’d had a makeshift funeral, her, Ryan, and Graham. They’d said what they needed to say and then went to the bar afterward to get plastered. Imbibed more sugar than someone could or should eat in a lifetime. And she’d cried. Cried until she felt like she was made of tears. Years three through five were focused on building her life. She’d get drunk on the anniversary, put a candle on top of a pile of custard creams and blow it out. She’d gotten a good job, away from Sheffield, but still close enough for a drive, enough for her to live. She’d spared some moments thinking about the little home she’d created on the outskirts of Sheffield. About the plants in the windows and her neighbors who seemed to have lead bricks instead of feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wonders if she’ll ever return to it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I got this,” Yaz says, pulling up her shirt. The Doctor’s eyes fall to her ribs where a tattoo now sits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Live great lives. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor traces the letters with no small amount of reverence, her fingers shaking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is permanent.” The Doctor breathes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good way to commemorate a dead friend, don’t you think?” Yaz says, shrugging her shirt down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Yaz.” The Doctor clutches at her desperately, holding on like Yaz was going to slip through her fingers like sand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m here, Doctor.” Yaz hugs back just as hard. After a while, Doctor resumes laying on Yaz’s chest, single heartbeat lulling her into silence. Yaz pulls her fingers through the Doctor’s hair, when they catch on a tangle, Doctor leans into Yaz’s hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Glutton for punishment you are.” Yaz teases her gently, and the Doctor buries her face into Yaz’s neck. She mumbles something incomprehensible and Yaz leans her neck away to hear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What was that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor huffs in frustration and presses her face into Yaz’s neck again. A vision greets her, Yaz restraining the Doctor, choking her, slapping her face. Yaz pulls away again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Use your words, puppy.” The Doctor whines again and her hips move against Yaz’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want,” The Doctor tries. “I want you to hurt me. I want you to tell me I deserve it. I want to be pretty for you. I haven’t been pretty before, I want to be pretty for you, Yaz.” The Doctor pleads, pressing her face into Yaz’s neck desperately. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz allowed her mind to wonder at the Doctor’s words for a moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I haven’t been pretty before.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She doubts the Doctor could be anything other than beautiful to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty girl. You gonna be good for me, Doctor?” Yaz says, running her hand up to pull at the Doctor’s hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor moans against her neck and nods.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yaz and the Doctor have a talk.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I think,” The Doctor said, spitting out a mouthful of seawater, “that could’ve gone worse.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think?” Yaz asks, pulling a stray bunch of plant matter out of her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Least there weren’t any giant crabs this time.” the Doctor says and leans over to brush some sand off Yaz’s jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Yaz pretends not to notice how her hand lingers there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's become one of the things they hadn’t spoken about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure they go on adventures, and in the quiet moments, the Doctor would crawl into her bed at night. She’d always complained that the TARDIS was too cold for her liking, especially parked inside the Time Vortex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When asked why they didn’t park somewhere warmer, the Doctor blushed and told her it was easier this way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Safer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor would clamber into Yaz’s bed (one she made homier by sticking glow in the dark stars to the ceiling), all fretting limbs and cold hands. Her fingers would find their way to her ribs, and her face would be buried in the back of Yaz’s neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Humans are just so </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Yaz. You’re like a space heater.” Yaz would wake to the Doctor snoring softly into the back of her neck; her hand curled around Yaz’s waist. The scent of engine oil and custard creams permeating her sheets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another thing they hadn’t spoken about. How after a long day, the Doctor would climb in her bed and soak up her warmth, or how she’d push Yaz to try and hurt her or pace the nights she couldn’t sleep. The Doctor would still sit at her feet whenever she could, and Yaz would tug at her hair and wait for her to say what she wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She never did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eight hundred years, and she still wouldn’t say it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had so many questions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What happened to you in prison? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why do you think you’re only allowed to feel pain? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why do you look at me like you could love me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right, I’m going for a shower then. Don’t wait up.” Yaz pushes off the wall, heads to her room. An hour later, Yaz is lying in bed, curled toward the wall. She’s not asleep exactly, more on the cusp of sleep and wakefulness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yaz? Y’awake?” the Doctor pokes her head inside the door. Yaz is far too comfortable to answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears the Doctor pad across the room, toeing her boots off and clambering into Yaz’s bed. The scent of seawater hits her, and she turns toward the Doctor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You even bother showering? You smell the same.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could just be a TARDIS shower that only pumps saltwater, good for the skin.” The Doctor grins at her in the low light of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor shifts toward her, snuggling her head into Yaz’s neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re always so warm after a shower, Yaz.” Her voice is muffled as she burrows herself further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re making my sheets smell like seawater, puppy.” Yaz runs her hand up the Doctor’s back, pulling at the ends of her hair. She was used to the Doctor being scruffy, her hair barely touching her collar. Now it was almost beyond her shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Side effect of prison she supposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor’s breath hitches at the nickname, and she huddles closer into Yaz. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the seawater, not me making your sheets smell.” She mumbles into Yaz’s neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Spose it's the seawater I’ll have to punish for being cheeky then too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor nods into her neck, and Yaz pulls her head back by her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor looks at her with warm expectant eyes, and Yaz lets go. The Doctor swings herself on top of her, resting herself on Yaz’s hips. The Doctor looks very young from this angle, expectant. A million more questions are just under the surface of Yaz’s skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why do you never talk about it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If I left, would it break you like you leaving broke me?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What happens after this ends? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A question bubbles up before she can stop it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you want me to hurt you?”  The Doctor sinks into herself at that, fists the blanket that is bunched around Yaz’s hips. She shrugs. Goofy smile present as always. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dunno. Everything is more intense in this body. Feels nice.” She sinks, wraps herself around Yaz. Yaz doubts that’s the entire truth. Her teeth find the skin of Yaz’s neck and start to worry at it. Yaz nearly jumps at the temperature change. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was prison cold? I don’t remember you being this cold before.” The Doctor stiffens at that, starts to pull away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yaz digs her nails into the back of the Doctor’s arms, raking long red lines down them. She feels the Doctor sigh into her, sinks back down. Yaz decides to be direct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pain isn't the only thing you’re allowed to feel, Doctor,” Yaz says into the top of her head. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I know that.” The Doctor mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want you to tell me I deserve it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you do.” The Doctor doesn't respond, and Yaz is convinced she’d fallen asleep until she speaks again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me a story.” She says into the skin of Yaz’s neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After I got my tattoo, I was a little obsessed with the pain of it for a while,” Yaz said. “They say it’s like a scratch, but they’re wrong. It’s more like a sunburn. It’s warm and angry, and you can’t touch it without it hurting for a while.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sounds like an infection.” The Doctor mumbles. Yaz tugs at her hair once in warning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hush, story police. It burns. I wanted someone to dig their nails into it, really make it hurt.” Yaz says, dragging the sharp edge of her nails against the Doctor’s back and feels her shudder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you do?” The Doctor asks voice barely above a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing. Couldn’t do anything I wanted to without it getting it infected.” Yaz says, and the Doctor sighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your turn,” Yaz says, and the Doctor’s teeth find their way back to her neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think that’s enough sharing for tonight, don’t you?” She says, sucking hard enough to bruise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yaz pulls away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’never talk about it. The most open you are is when I’m either ignoring you or hurting you.” Yaz says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come off it, Yaz. That’s not true. I’m an open book, me.” The Doctor has a lopsided smile on her face, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Hasn’t since the first time she’d showed up on earth again and had appeared in Yaz’s flat. She’d come back after a grocery run to find the Doctor sitting in the middle of her living room, stray parts of her television lying around her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor had beamed up at her, watched her drop the grocery bags. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hiya, Yaz. Sorry about the mess. It were making a funny noise.” Yaz had crossed the space in record time and nearly crushed the Doctor with the hug she gave her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t give any explanation beyond that she was in prison, she had just gotten back, and gone to see Yaz first. She’d been the only one to take the Doctor up on her offer to travel again, Graham and Ryan saying they wanted to keep their feet more firmly on the ground this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Telling someone where you’re from and telling them who you are are two separate concepts. You know it's not the same, Doctor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor sits up, and for a second, Yaz thinks she might run, citing the TARDIS needing maintenance or some other paper-thin excuse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, she pushes her forehead against Yaz’s and says all of the things she couldn’t say out loud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is prison, and Yaz feels every second of the eight hundred years, how heavy it weighed on the Doctor’s hearts for her to think she’d abandoned more people that she loved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yaz pulls away. She doesn't realize that she’s crying until the Doctor’s thumb comes up to swipe away at a tear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why I never talk about it. That’s why I’m running, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that is why</span>
  </em>
  <span> I am so scared of losing you if I let you in, Yaz.” The Doctor’s voice has an edge to it that Yaz has only heard her use with enemies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to bear it alone, Doctor. You think I came back just for the stars?” The tears are free-flowing now in the diminished light of the room, and Yaz almost wishes that it was entirely dark so that she didn’t have to see the Doctor’s face twist into something unrecognizable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yasmin Khan, I don’t ever want you to think that I didn’t spend every single day thinking about you and how to get back to you.” The Doctor says. Yaz shakes her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be something you use to get you out of your head or someone to impress when you need to feel important. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Doctor. But if I am just something pretty to look at until the next pretty thing comes along, let me know so that I can go home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a long time, Yaz’s admission hangs in the air between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are very pretty, though, Yaz.” The Doctor says quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yaz snorts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s your idea of a confession?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor waves her hands helplessly and sighs. </span>
</p><p><span>“I’m still quite,” her face twists in confusion as she fidgets, attempting to find the right words. “I’m still not myself in this body. I don’t think that’ll ever change. I can’t stay with you, but I want to be </span><em><span>so</span></em> <em><span>selfish</span></em><span> with you, Yaz. I want to show you the entire galaxy and then show you it all again backward and sideways. If there ever comes a day that you leave or that I change, I want to cross my own timeline to be with you even if it's only for a second. And that </span><em><span>scares</span></em><span> me.” </span></p><p>
  <span>“Then be selfish,” Yaz says it like she’s asking the Doctor to fetch her a pen or take something off a shelf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be selfish with me. Someday is someday, Doctor. I would never ask you to pick the universe over me-” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no universe without you, Yasmin Khan.” The Doctor interrupts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yaz ignores it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m asking you. For all the time we have left, be selfish. You’re allowed to be happy, to want things from me, to ask for them. Let me </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Doctor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor presses her forehead against Yaz’s again. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she says without speaking. It rings and reverberates into every corner of Yaz’s mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yaz isn’t sure who initiates the kiss first only that her mouth is on the Doctor’s, and her fingers are lacing around the back of her neck to pull her in deeper. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>; she says with her lips and teeth and tongue as she kisses the Doctor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The TARDIS sirens blaring force them apart, but Yaz doesn't miss how the Doctor chases her lips for a second after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We should probably go.” Yaz whispers, stealing another kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We probably should.” The Doctor’s eyes flick down to Yaz’s lips again before she pulls away with a reluctant sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Later?” Yaz asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Later.” The Doctor says.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this work might end up being multiple chapters oops<br/>ty for all the kind comments!!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this was supposed to be pure smut but feelings got in the way, let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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